


Legacy

by littlelovelyspiderling



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Redemption Zuko, Tickling, Ticklish Zuko, Ticklish!Zuko, Zuko (Avatar) is an Idiot, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, i love that that's a frequently used tag lol, iroh loves his nephew and just wants to see him happy, zuko is a sad boi so iroh tickles him the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:41:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25252519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelovelyspiderling/pseuds/littlelovelyspiderling
Summary: After a string of losses, Zuko is acting uncharacteristically dejected. Iroh employs one of Ursa’s old methods to reanimate his despondent nephew.
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Ursa & Zuko (Avatar) (mentioned)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 197





	Legacy

Zuko hadn’t been right for over three days now. After losing his entire naval crew to Zhao, then being betrayed by Azula, then letting the avatar escape him in the outskirts of the Earth Kingdom, the young prince had transformed from his usual fiery, driven self into a spiritless husk. It didn’t help that they were basically living as refugees, scrounging for food and shelter in the woods surrounding a collection of tiny Earth Kingdom villages. 

It wasn’t like his nephew to get discouraged. And in the few instances he had, it had never lasted this long. Even when met with the bleakest odds, Zuko always found a way to power through, to hold out hope, sometimes to an unhealthy degree. 

Now, Iroh was amazed to find himself actually missing his nephew’s rage-fueled rants and outbursts. He had years of practice navigating Zuko’s temper: an angry Zuko was something he could handle. Plus, in expressing his frustrations, Zuko was at least being _passionate_ about something. 

But a hopeless Zuko? An idle, dejected, not-eating-or-moving-for-days Zuko? That was not Iroh’s area of expertise. When he ducked into their cave hideout to find his nephew lying in the exact same position he’d left him in over two hours ago, Iroh sighed.

“Prince Zuko,” he said, placing his foraging findings beside the teen’s head. “You are worrying me.”

Zuko didn’t respond other than a slight shift in his shoulders. Iroh sat next to him and leaned against the wall of the cave, the rock cool against his back.

“I know times are difficult for us right now—more than they have ever been. But you cannot give into despair. Your destiny is in your own hands now. Whether you choose to continue searching for the avatar or to pursue a different path, I will do whatever I can to support you.”

When Zuko still didn’t answer, Iroh laid his hand on his shoulder. The teen tensed beneath his touch.

“Why should I even try anymore?” he said, voice small. Iroh ran his thumb along his back in comforting circles.

“What do you mean?” he pried, encouraged by the fact that he was at least speaking.

Zuko hunched his shoulders. “I’ll never capture the avatar. Not like this. It’s over. I’m going to live out the rest of my life as a banished failure hated by my entire country.” A shudder ran through him. “I’m never going home. I’ll never win Father’s love back.” 

Iroh knew this wasn’t the time to boast of his brother’s cruel nature and confirm Zuko’s greatest fears. He placed his hand on his nephew’s head. His hair was thin but soft; it was finally beginning to grow back after he’d cut it. Zuko hadn’t had a full head of hair since his father had scorched his face, burning off much of his hairline with it. The area around his scar was still patchy in places, but not in a way that was too noticeable. His new look was quite becoming of him. Under different circumstances, Zuko could easily win the hearts of an entire town of pining adolescents, maybe even find someone to settle down with. But that seemed to be the last thing on his mind.

“That’s not true,” Iroh insisted. “None of it is. You can still find the avatar and reclaim your honor.”

Zuko sat up suddenly, turning on him with desolation in his eyes. “ _How_ , Uncle? Look at us! No ship, no crew, no transport of any kind.” He swatted the pile of berries across the cave. “Scavenging for food like _animals_. We’re enemies of every nation at this point. There’s nowhere for us to go where we won’t be imprisoned or executed. How can we hope to find the avatar like this, let alone capture him?”

Before Iroh could attempt to summon a reply, Zuko dropped his face into his hands, shaking his head. “It’s pointless, Uncle. I can’t do it anymore.”

Iroh gazed upon his nephew with a deep ache in his chest. It cut him up inside to see the boy he loved as his own look so miserable. He wished he had the words to make everything better, but none existed. He leaned forward and gripped both of Zuko’s forearms.

“And you don’t have to, if that is your choice. But don’t choose this path because you are giving up, Prince Zuko. Choose it because you want to carve out a new destiny for yourself. A fresh start in life.”

Zuko released his face and stared at the ground, eyes foggy with defeat. He wrenched out of his uncle’s hold and laid back on the floor, curling his knees to his chest, balling his hands under his head. Iroh exhaled despondently, stroking his beard as he probed his mind for a solution to this predicament. 

While he observed Zuko’s pouty silhouette, a memory resurfaced in the back of his mind. A grassy hillside on Ember Island, young Lu Ten by his side, griping about some fight he’d had with another boy at school. Iroh scooping his son into his arms and tickling his belly until everything that was troubling him had washed away in a flood of happy laughter. 

Then another memory, this one after Lu Ten had left to fight in the war, with Iroh soon to follow him. It was his last day in the Fire Nation before shipping out to Ba Sing Se. As he was taking in the royal courtyard one last time, he spotted Zuko and Ursa sitting together by the turtle duck pond. Zuko was young, probably about eight or nine, and looked upset about something. Iroh considered going over to try to cheer him up, but Ursa had it under control. After talking gently to him for a few more moments, she dragged Zuko into her lap and pulled up his shirt, blowing a giant raspberry into his tummy before he could even register what was happening. His shrieky, hysterical laughter had warmed his heart, making him eager to be at his own son’s side again. 

How he longed to return to those days. How he longed for Zuko to experience that kind of happiness again. 

Iroh blinked and found himself back in the cave. Back with the berries and the darkness and his now older, grumpier nephew. The warmth in his heart shriveled away. How could that joyful little kid and the broken teenager in front of him be one and the same? He couldn’t recall the last time Zuko had laughed authentically. He couldn’t even remember what his laugh sounded like.

_I wonder if that tactic still works on him._ The thought was bittersweet, but also incredibly endearing. It wasn’t entirely out of the question, he realized. Maybe he’d never grown out of it. 

Iroh found himself smiling at the idea—half out of curiosity, and half out of mischief. It wasn’t like he had any other means of lifting his spirits at the moment. Why not give it a try?

“I’m afraid I do not have a way to fix your situation, Prince Zuko,” Iroh said, scooting closer to his side. “But I may be able to temporarily brighten your mood.”

Zuko huffed. “I don’t want any tea, Uncle.”

“Not tea,” Iroh chuckled. His nephew knew him too well. “Not right now, at least.”

He felt unsure suddenly, like he was about to breach some unspoken social contract. But the possibility of cheering up his downtrodden nephew was too tempting to dismiss. By now, he was desperate to get his old Zuko back. 

So Iroh reached out and gave Zuko’s side a few experimental squeezes. The response was immediate and frenzied. The teen jolted and yelped, jerking away from Iroh’s touch and whirling on him with bulging eyes.

“Hey! W-what are you doing?” Zuko stammered. A hint of pink bloomed in the apples of his cheeks.

Delight sparkled across his uncle’s expression. “Ah! So it does still work!” Grinning fiendishly, he curled his hands into claws and pounced on the young prince, making him gasp in surprise.

“Uncle! What’re you trying to— _wha!”_ To his disbelief, Iroh wrapped his hands around his torso and started tickling his belly, pinching at his sides and kneading underneath his ribs. The sensation was so unexpected, a smile sprawled across Zuko’s face faster than he could stop it, followed by an enormous wall of laughter. It bubbled up his throat and poured from his lips, shrill and squeaky and uncontrollable, making his blush deepen.

“Ahahack! Whaha—s-stohahap! Iroh!” He grappled with his wrists and kicked his legs, but his uncle wasn’t messing around. He loomed over his nephew, using his superior weight to keep the lanky teen trapped underneath him—and helpless to defend himself against the surprise tickle attack. Although Iroh’s technique was diabolical, his expression was warm and cheerful as Zuko’s laughter filled the cave. 

“Aw! Look at you, Prince Zuko! I can’t remember the last time you were this happy!”

Zuko thrashed and squirmed, giggling hysterically, smiling from ear to ear. “Quihihit it!” he cackled, tugging on his arms. “Thihis isn’t—I’m nahat— _ehahaha_ —h-hahappy!”

“Are you sure about that? You look pretty happy to me!” He switched to targeting his ribs, recalling them to be a particularly sensitive area on the young prince. His memory held true as Zuko threw his head back, pealing into loud, high-pitched belly laughs. 

“Ahahahuhuncle!” he squealed, wrestling uselessly against his hold. His adorable giggling coupled with the gigantic smile on his bright pink face formed a combo too cute for words. Watching him in that moment reminded Iroh just how young the banished prince truly was. It was easy to forget that the scarred, powerful firebender he called his nephew was still only a kid. He wondered why he hadn’t tested this out on him sooner. 

“I never expected tickling to be so effective on you, Prince Zuko,” Iroh observed amusedly. “You better hope no one else finds out. Someone could use it against you!”

At that point, Zuko was _beyond_ flustered. Embarrassment radiated off him in sizzling waves. He, Prince Zuko, royal heir of the Fire Nation and son of the Fire Lord, was collapsed on the ground in a giggly heap, being tickled to tears by his uncle like a helpless little child. Even worse, Uncle was _teasing_ him about it! And there was nothing he could do to stop him. Zuko’s fire was fueled by constant rage and steady breathing, neither of which he could maintain in his current state of hysterical laughing. His brain didn’t seem capable of recalling any aspects of his many years of martial arts training while occupied by the feeling of Iroh’s fingers drilling into his rib cage. Plus, it wasn’t like he wanted to actually _hurt_ his uncle. Just get him off so he could escape this unbelievably mortifying situation.

Zuko arched his spine, desperately trying to buck Uncle’s weight off so he could slip out from underneath him, but it was no use. To his horror, Iroh’s hands shot under Zuko’s arms and began wiggling against the hollows, making him yelp and sputter. His laughter jumped to an octave that surprised both of them. 

“GAHA— _nohohahaha!”_ Zuko bellowed. He knocked Iroh’s hands aside and managed to roll onto his stomach, but Iroh caught him by the waist and dragged him into his lap, wrecking his tummy with tickles. Try as he might, Zuko couldn’t wriggle free or pry away the fingers endlessly needling his belly. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Iroh asked playfully, his hands darting all over his midsection, ticking every inch of his sensitive torso. “I’m not done with you! You haven’t smiled this much in years! I haven’t gotten my fill yet!”

Iroh seized one of Zuko’s wrists and held it above his head, then used his free arm to pin him down and tickle the entirety of his now defenseless left side. His fingers scuttled along his rib cage and burrowed deep into his exposed armpit, sending shocks through Zuko’s entire nervous system and making him cackle. It was a cruel trick Uncle used to pull against him as a child that, unfortunately for him, proved just as effective today as it did then. The harder he fought to escape, the crueler Iroh’s tickle tactics became. 

“Ahahagh! Stahahahap!” Zuko laughed, his frenzied squirming only driving him further into Iroh’s lap. “Uhuncle! _Pleehease!_ Ehahahahahaaa!”

By now, poor Zuko was falling to giggly pieces. Hiccups began punctuating his happy laughter, making his whole body leap. He’d never been tickled this viciously for this long, and therefore had never realized the severity of his sensitivity until now. How was it that he could suffer through burns and battle wounds and fatigue with steely perseverance, but barely handle two minutes of tickling? How could his uncle be so silly and so merciless at the same time?

He doubted he would ever live this day down. 

Iroh smiled at his nephew’s flustered pleas. If he was actually resorting to asking politely, he must’ve been desperate for the torture to end. “I’ll only stop if you promise to start taking care of yourself again,” Iroh said. He dug his thumb into Zuko’s hip bone, causing him to buck and flounder. “And don’t just say it— _mean_ it, and act on it.”

“Ohokahay!” Zuko giggled, yanking at the hand spidering across his tummy. “Ihi prahamise!”

Iroh soaked in his nephew’s bright laughter and radiant smile for a few more precious seconds. Then, with evil glee, he pulled up his shirt and leaned over his stomach, blowing a gigantic raspberry directly into his bare belly. 

The sound that jumped from Zuko’s throat was less like a laugh and more like a shriek. He thrashed out of Iroh’s lap and rolled onto the ground, scrambling backwards until his back hit the wall, panting heavily.

Iroh chuckled at his nephew’s frantic response, clutching his large belly. “I’m happy to see Ursa’s secret weapon still works on you. Even at sixteen.”

Zuko hugged himself around the middle, blushing from head to toe, knees tucked against his chest, eyes wide. “W-what on _earth_ was that for?” he stammered bewilderedly, voice shrill. “You can’t just—just _do_ that to me!”

“Why not?” Iroh inquired.

“Because—” Zuko bristled. “Because I’m the prince! And I—I forbid it!”

“You forbid me from tickling you?” Iroh snorted. “All right. Good luck enforcing that.”

Zuko scowled at his feet. “I’m not a child anymore. You can’t treat me like one.”

“Then don’t act like one,” Iroh retorted, standing upright. “You’ve pouted in the dark long enough, Prince Zuko. Now it’s time to face your destiny and show the world the beautiful person you’ve become.”

When Zuko didn’t reply, Iroh gave his side a quick jab, making him recoil with a sharp giggle. 

“Hehey!” Zuko protested. 

“Besides, I’m a prince too, you know. And I say I get to tickle you whenever I please, especially when you’re needlessly beating yourself down. And since you believe you’re going to be a refugee for the rest of your life, not a prince, my word supersedes yours.”

Fire burned through Zuko's insides. His skin still tingled all over, buzzing with phantom sensations of Iroh’s wiggly fingertips. He was too humiliated by the entire situation to figure out how to deal with it. 

Iroh could sense the teen’s bashfulness and grinned sympathetically. “Come now, Prince Zuko. There’s no need to be embarrassed. Your laughter is quite adorable.”

Heat rushed up his neck and into his ears. He grimaced shyly, avoiding his gaze.

“You’re telling me that your mood isn’t the _slightest_ bit improved after all that smiling and laughing?”

“No,” Zuko growled. Never in a million years would he admit that being tickled by his dumb, goofy uncle cheered him up in any way. He’d never let himself or anyone else believe for one second that it felt kinda nice to laugh authentically for the first time in what seemed like decades. It definitely didn’t remind him of his mother’s warm, uplifting presence, or solidify the fact that Uncle loved him as his own and wanted to see him happy. It was a stupid, childish thing he never wanted to acknowledge ever again.

Iroh grinned wryly, stepping closer. “Really? Not even a little bit?”

He reached toward him suddenly, making Zuko flinch and giggle reflexively. His hands stopped a few inches back without making contact, his fingers simply wiggling in his nephew’s direction, but that was more than enough to set off Zuko’s nerves and make him squirm with anticipation. 

“Stohop it!” Zuko demanded, shrinking into himself and laughing sheepishly. 

“Stop what? I’m not even touching you!” Iroh couldn’t get enough of it—seeing his historically grouchy nephew so smiley and giggly. He would most definitely be exploiting Zuko’s ticklishness again in the future. At that moment, he spotted a vulnerability in Zuko’s defenses and made quick work of it, tasering his side with his index finger. Zuko yelped and flailed and flew to his feet. 

“Ehenough, Uncle!” he shouted, biting back another wave of giggles. He stomped toward the mouth of the cave, hands balled into fists. “I’m going to find us some _real_ food—not some stupid berries that are probably poisonous.” 

Iroh smiled at the sight of his nephew on his feet again. The fire had finally returned to his eyes. The truth was obvious, even if neither of them ever said it out loud: Iroh’s mischievous plan had worked. 

“Wonderful!” Uncle exclaimed, fishing a kettle out of his bag. “I’ll make us some lovely ginseng tea to share once you are back.”

Zuko huffed and stalked into the forest, blush continuously burning in his cheeks. No matter how humiliating all this was, at least he knew if he was ever reduced to a hopeless wreck again, Iroh had a way to snap him out of it. At least he’d learned he wasn’t completely incapable of laughter and happiness, even after everything he’d gone through—a realization that had taken him thoroughly by surprise. Mom would’ve been happy to know Iroh was here, carrying on her playful legacy. 


End file.
